Sondra wrote:
[snip worst restroom story]Yeh, I can smell it from here. In vivid clarity I can imagine the colours! Phewww..
IMAGINE the colors. Can't ya just smell it?
-s
My story of the 'Worst bar bog':
Riddler & I were in Liverpool, on a drunken spree. I cannot remember when, or why. Who needs a why anyway? We ended up in Matthew St, famous for the 'Cavern' the club the Beatles first played in. I think it must of been a Sunday afternoon, as the pubs were shut, just a few basement clubs open.
We approached a rather large looking doorman, trying our best to look semi-sober. Amazingly he made gestures as though we could enter. Until he noticed our footwear. 'Sorry guys, no trainers allowed' the bastard uttered. Riddler & I pleaded...We needed a drink! Eventually he agreed that we could enter if we took the offending footwear off, leaving them at the door, at our own risk! Well! who gives a fack if they got pinched? We plodded into the club only to find that:
1. 99% of the clientele had no footwear on.The problems started on visiting the Gents. The first guy had obviously missed slightly, leaving a slight puddle on the floor. The second guy, not wanting to stand in the pee on the floor (In his socks) had stood a bit further back, sort of aiming in the general direction, leaving most of his discharge on the floor.
2. They too were all as drunk as we were. Paradise!
By the time I got to the gents this had been going on for hours. Nobody was making any attempt to hit the drain, just peeing somewhere near the door, out of the puddle, which now was more like a lake. This went on all afternoon. On my last visit to the gents I vaguely remember some sort of queue for the toilets, half way down the stairs that led to the 'toilets', the guy in front of me turned around & said, 'fuck it, I'am not getting my feet wet' He then just relieved himself there. I then noticed that the other 15 guys in the line were doing the same. By the look of the entrance to the gents people were not just peeing. Several large puddles of diced carrots were on view in the hallway, along with some still steaming, suspicious looking mounds. By the look of some of the discharges, the beer was to be avoided in this place, either that or they had had a bad curry the night before. Thank fack I was drinking vodka!.
I think this must of been a one off policy of this particular club. Imagine the cleaners face when he saw that the gents now occupied most of the club! Daft bastards!
I might add that this puts a whole new meaning on 'Smelly socks'.
Rab